


Talon’s D&D Nights

by Smokeycut



Category: overwatch
Genre: Crack Fic, D&D, Reaper and his four idiot children, Talon - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2019-04-28 17:29:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14454255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smokeycut/pseuds/Smokeycut
Summary: Once a week, deep within Talon’s lair, five Talon operatives gather to play a game of D&D. Too bad they’re all fucking idiots. Pure crack.





	Talon’s D&D Nights

Reaper’s gaze scanned across the length of the table in Talon’s meeting room. Officially speaking, there was no business to conduct that night, and no reason for Talon’s leaders to gather. Yet two of them, not counting himself, were occupying seats at the table. An additional two agents of Talon joined them, bringing the total number of people up to five. 

To his left sat Moira and Widowmaker. Moira steepled her fingers as she looked over a single document, sadistic glee filling her eyes. Widowmaker had her chin in palm, not paying any attention at all to the paper in front of her.

To Reaper’s right were Doomfist and Sombra. Akande was beaming down at a stack of papers that were piled in a stack that had to be ten inches tall, at least. And Sombra was... 

“ _What_ are you _wearing_?” Reaper rasped, not even bothering to hide the annoyance in his voice.

“Chill, dude! It’s for roleplaying!” Sombra explained, tilting her chair back. Whereas everyone else was wearing civilian clothing, the resident hacker was dressed a fair bit more extravagantly. Her face was painted white, with black lipstick and thick black circles around the eyes, dripping down into tear-like marks as they neared her cheeks. She wore a pointed purple and white jester’s cap, jangly bells included. Her dress was similarly themed, with bells and a frilled collar, along with a floofy white skirt that ballooned out from her waist. Even her shoes, which she propped up on the table, looked like something a harlequin would wear.

“I see no difference from her usual attire,” Moira snarked, sparing a glance at Sombra’s attire for the evening. She snorted and rolled her eyes when Sombra responded by flipping her off.

“ _Whatever_ ,” Reaper muttered. “The four of you begin in a taver-“

“It cannot be a tavern,” Doomfist cut in. “My character is a Monk, and he took a vow to never taste alcohol.”

“Then he’s drinking water,” Reaper told him.

“I think it would make more sense for us to meet at an inn,” Doomfist said. “Archibald has been traveling on foot for several days, and this town would be his first place to rest. Going to a tavern first would make little sense.”

“He’s _thirsty_ , then. Or maybe the tavern has a bed for him upstairs. It doesn’t matter. They’re meeting at a tavern.” Reaper rubbed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, having already come to regret DMing this game.

“Why does it have to be a tavern, if I may ask?” Moira wondered aloud.

“Because it’s a classic starting location in D&D! Now _shut up_ and _listen_ ,” Reaper growled, slamming his fist on the table. Thankfully, that seemed to get them to stop. Settling back into his chair, he started again. “You’re in a tavern. All the other tables are full, so the four of you are sharing one. Introduce yourselves.”

“My character’s name is Archibald Nor,” Doomfist began. “He’s a human Monk who spent his entire life in a monastery, and three weeks ago he left on a journey of enlightenment. I’ve written an extensive backstory for him. Ah, and Amélie’s character is connected to mine, so she should go next.”

Reaper nodded, and gestured towards Widowmaker. She looked down at her character sheet and began reading it in a monotone.

“Name: Ariana Nor. Race: human. Class: Ranger. Age: 17. Stats are-“

“Just give us the backstory,” Reaper told her.

“She is the daughter of Archibald Nor, and is a self taught sniper. She uses a Type 99 bolt action sniper rifle.”

“No. Just... no,” Reaper muttered. “Not happening. Sniper rifles do _not_ exist in D &D, and monasteries don’t let Monks have kids.” He grabbed Widowmaker’s character sheet, crumpled it up, and slapped a new one down in front of her. “You’re using one of the characters I made in advance.”

“Okay,” she said with a shrug. Doomfist huffed, then began editing his gargantuan backstory. “Name: Liliana Shen. Race: Elf. Class: Rogue.”

“Good enough. Moira?” Reaper looked at her, pleading mentally that she’d lessen his suffering, rather than add to it.

“I’ll be playing as Moira O’Deorain. She’s a 48 year old human Alchemist, who seeks knowledge through her travels.”

“Fuck you. Moving on. Sombra?”

A wicked grin spread across the harlequin’s face. From under her seat, she pulled out an authentic 15th century lute that she had stolen earlier that week. A look of horror spread across Reaper’s face as she leapt up on the table and strummed the instrument.

“MY NAME IS GALCI TORNAN, AND I WILL BE YOUR BARD FOR THIS EVENING!”


End file.
